


Stronger teeth than orcs

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Belfalas Rim [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elves of Mirkwood are a lot more resilient than Saruman might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stronger teeth than orcs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



There’s an air of gloom to the lab, a smoky atmosphere heavy with ill intents and lungs filled with the fumes of countless machines destined to bring the world to its knees.

Saruman sits on a high stool as other men would on a throne, still managing a disturbingly regal pose even with an arm missing and sweat glistening off his skin; the red glow of an antique fireplace casting ever-changing shadows across the hollow of his cheeks, the dips of his collarbones, the tower tattooed on his forearm.

The heat doesn’t bother Gimli –he grew up kilometers underground and knows better than to expect the air to ever feel cool down there, so a mere house fire won’t be enough to make him uncomfortable- but the elf sitting cross-legged on the countertop looks like he could swallow a lake, and his dark brown shirt sticks to his ribs as he wipes sweat off his brow with a dirty rag. It’s one of the twins who pilot  _Peredhil_ , probably the one who keeps drifting back to Legolas… And as for the princeling, the twin’s presence, and the clinging noise coming from under  _Last Alliance_ ’s gauntlet, indicates without a doubt that Gimli has found the place he was looking for.

Yet, before he can talk to his copilot, he has to stop and ask:

 

“What kind of sick horror happened to make you laugh, old man?”

 

Saruman’s throaty laugh echoes in the workshop again, the sick sound of someone whose lungs have been taken by soot –a sound Gimli knows well after spending so many years in mines and around heavy smokers. The old man keep laughing, coughing and cursing for a long time until at last, he turns to gesture toward the elf on the countertop and spits:

 

“Your three-hugging friend _here_ , still thinks there’s a chance you’ll be able to beat the Witch-King and his Kaijus now that Sauron joined him overseas!”

“Sauron didn’t join anyone,” Legolas interjects from where he is workingat the same time Gimli denies all friendship with elves, “Gondor drove him out of his tower… and it didn’t take long for the Haradrim to realize their fate would be far more enviable if we won than if we lost.”

“As if they betrayal mattered,” Saruman sneers, bending over a basin to spit a heavy blob of blackened saliva, “when the Witch King learns about you….”

 

It seems the workshop darkens, shrinks around them and Gimli shifts from foot to foot, waits for the storm to pass and the spell to end –Gandalf bound Saruman himself, so there shouldn’t be any risk of him breaking his chains… still, an angry wizard is never a pleasant company, especially not when you are kilometers under frozen ground and the heaviest snow-storm you’ve ever seen.

The twin –it must be Elladan- has jumped down from his countertop and his hand is resting against his hip, ready to take his dagger out, but the sound of Legolas sliding out from under his work seems to nip the fight in the bud.

 

“Do you pretend to frighten me with this?” Legolas asks Saruman as he sits up, “You must be mistaking me for a child! I was born and grew up under the Witch King’s tricks –my people has not seen the sun in a very long time, and a simple light show won’t be enough to send me cowering back.”

 

Legolas chuckles –a dry, fake sound, devoid of any joy or humor, or at least none that Gimli can hear. He watches the princeling get off his wheel plank and walk to the basin of solvent they keep around for cleaning purposes, methodically wiping engine grease off his forearm –Gimli can’t quite take his eyes away from where dark green runes emerge on both sides, starting from the wrists and climbing up almost to Legolas’ elbows… a prayer and a list of names, Gimli knows, even though he can’t understand the runes themselves.

 

“Kaïjus are far larger than spiders, it is true, but Jaegers are also much bigger than we are, and my elves are used to defend places that offer a lot less protection than Forochel. Worry not, Saruman, the Witch King won’t be eradicating us for a long time yet, if ever.”

“Not to mention,” Elladan interjects from where he still stands, “You have been a great help in understanding the way these monsters work.”

“It pains me to admit it,” Gimli snorts, relief flooding his chest, “but the elf is right. How will Sauron react when he learns you betrayed him uh?”

 

Colors drain from Saruman’s face, his sunken eyes darting around as if already hearing orcs and goblins come for him -Gimli never liked Saruman’s face half so well as he does just now. In fact, he would probably snap a picture if he were allowed to -but the elves are silent and, where Gimli doesn’t mind mocking Legolas, he will  _not_  put himself in a position to be seen as anything less than professional where another pointy-eared bastard can hear.

 

“You may think we deserve to lose,” Legolas concludes with a grim tone, “but we are your only chance of survival, and you know this. If I were you, I would be thankful that the elves of Mirkwood have stronger teeth than orcs.”

 

Legolas turns on his heels and Gimli follows him out of the door.

He came here with a purpose but, for now, intimidating Saruman sounds a lot more satisfying.


End file.
